Yin and Yang
by Sidekicks-anonymous
Summary: A sincere and selfless young Autobot. A vain and conniving ex-Decepticon. Their only common ground, the title of "medic." Clearly they're going to be the best of friends. NOT SLASH. Prime-verse, post-"Predacons Rising." Rated for tragic backstory in later chapters.
1. Red Flags

**Some notes before we begin: firstly, this is not part of my "Sparks" stories. It's a completely different take on the aftermath of "Predacons Rising."**

 **Second: This is not, in any way, a slash fiction. I do not write slash, nor will I ever write it. As the reader, you're allowed to interpret it whatever you you want, but please know that I wrote this as a friendship, not a romance.**  
 **Ok, boring stuff aside. Big thanks to my friend journal129 for making the cover image. :) She's awesome. Now on to the story!**

* * *

First Aid had heard the idiom "butterflies in your stomach." While he was sure that having organic insects in his fuel tank would feel much different than this, he still found the phrase appropriate for the ticklish anxiety he was now experiencing.

"You came at the perfect time," Ultra Magnus told him as they walked down the hall. First Aid had to jog to keep up with Magnus' long strides. "With the influx of refugees, our resident medic's been strained. Another doctor will be much appreciated."

"I'm not a doctor," First Aid said apologetically. "I'm just a nurse. And I'm not that good…"

"Nonsense. You have a sterling record; every one of your previous commanding officers has praised your skills. Even Ratchet was impressed."

First Aid's cheeks grew warm beneath his face-mask. "I-I'm just looking forward to working with him," he stammered. "It's an honor to get to study under Prime's own medic."

"Yes… about that." Ultra Magnus stopped outside a door. The glyphs on it marked it as the infirmary. "I'm afraid Ratchet has projects on Earth that he has to attend to. And as we need you on Cybertron in case of emergencies, you'll be training under our new medic instead."

"Oh." First Aid's shoulder's sagged, but he quickly shook off his disappointment. "Who's the medic?"

"An unexpected new recruit." Magnus frowned. He fixed First Aid with a gaze so heavy, First Aid felt pinned under its seriousness. "You should know he's on probation. Since you'll be working together, I want you to keep an optic on him—let us know if his behavior raises any alarms. Know that your safety is our top priority. If at any time you feel your health or well-being is threatened, alert me and we'll reassign you."

"Ooo-kay…?' First Aid said hesitantly. That was ominous. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered with renewed fury. Having dropped that bombshell, Ultra Magnus opened the med-bay doors. First Aid's professional mind automatically assessed it. It was much better stocked than the one he'd worked in before. Not only was there a full complement of medical equipment, but everything looked well-maintained and immaculately clean. His attention shifted to the mech in the center. His scarlet paint job stood out against the gray of the metal around him. He took no notice of the newcomers as he cleaned—wait, was that a buzzsaw? It was a buzzsaw, attached to his arm. Not something you'd expect to see on a medic.

Ultra Magnus approached him. "Knockout."

"Magnus." The mech—Knockout—didn't even look up from polishing his blade.

Ultra Magnus scowled. "My name is _Ultra_ Magnus. And according to protocol, you should stand in the presence of a superior officer."

"Oh, but we're all friends here, Magnus. Why bother with formality?" Knockout squinted at his buzzsaw, examining the metal for any further blemishes. Apparently satisfied, he transformed it back into a hand and stood up. "Is this the new meat?"

"This is First Aid: a registered nurse and respected Autobot." Magnus put emphasis on "Autobot." As Knockout turned to First Aid, the nurse realized his optics were red. A shiver ran down his spine. Only Con's had red optics…

"—certified as a medic." Ultra Magnus continued. First Aid had completely missed everything he said but fortunately, he was talking to Knockout, not the nurse.

"Yes, yes, I'll teach him proper." Knockout turned his red optics on First Aid. He glanced over the new mech critically before holding his hand out—a hand with sharp, slender fingers like a hawk's talons. First Aid tried not to cringe as he shook it.

"Good to meet you, sir." He managed to mutter.

Knockout grinned in a way that did nothing to ease his nerves. "Welcome to my parlor."


	2. Mind Games

Knockout was not trustworthy. He would be the first to admit that. Even after his defection and show of loyalty, the Autobots made it clear that he wasn't one of them. He was a necessary evil: tolerated, but unliked, and by no means trusted.

It surprised him, therefore, when he was assigned to look after a new arrival.

"You want me to train someone?" He asked, sure that he had misunderstood.

"There's another refugee ship arriving soon," Ultra Magnus repeated. "Among their number is a certified medical assistant."

"You mean a nurse?"

Magnus frowned at the interruption. "To use the vernacular—yes, a nurse. He's in need of additional tutelage before he can qualify as a doctor, and since you're the highest-ranking medic currently on Cybertron, I'm assigning you as his mentor."

"Wouldn't Ratchet be a better choice? Being, you know, an actual certified doctor?"

"Ratchet is busy on Earth; he has little time for training, and we need First Aid on Cybertron. And…despite the fact that you're not officially certified, you still have the experience and skill level to qualify as a doctor." Magnus grimaced as if the compliment pained him. "You will train him and supervise his work, and he'll assist you in the medbay. This decision is final, Knockout."

Knockout pouted, but didn't protest. Debating with Ultra Magnus was like trying to move a brick wall. Impossible. Well… unless you took it to pieces. But disassembling the current Autobot leader wouldn't gain him any popularity points. So he resigned himself to babysitting the newbie. He guessed it was less about "training" anyway, and more about making sure Knockout had a watchdog to keep him out of trouble.

That suspicion grew stronger when he met First Aid. The nurse was the Autobot-iest Autobot he'd ever seen. He practically radiated humility and selflessness. The mask was unusual, though. Autobots didn't generally conceal their faces. To see one hiding behind a visor and a face-mask was unexpected.

Knockout could tell—to his satisfaction—that he unnerved the youngster. The nurse stood tense and silent as Knockout showed him around the medbay under Magnus' watchful eye. Knockout suppressed an evil smirk. He'd always enjoyed messing with bots' heads. If First Aid was going to make it this easy… he might have some fun with this babysitting thing.


	3. Scars

**Third chapter! And it has a soundtrack. If you care to listen to the mentioned songs while you read, they're (in order) "Welcome to my Nightmare" by Alice Cooper, and "Pressure" by Billy Joel.**

* * *

First Aid rocked back and forth on his heels. The medbay doors loomed in front of him like the entrance to a tomb.

He shouldn't be this nervous. It wasn't the first time he'd had to deal with a new medbay, or a new mentor. But Knockout… there was no other way to say it. He gave First Aid the creeps. The stories he'd heard from the rest of the crew didn't help. According to them, Knockout was a cross between a butcher and a mad scientist, nearing Shockwave-levels of sadism. One of the Autobots—Wheeljack, if he remembered correctly—had suggested that First Aid make a will before entering the infirmary. He'd promptly been smacked upside the helm by another bot, but the words lingered in First Aid's mind. He'd spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, trying to reign in his fear-driven imagination. He hadn't had much success.

 _I'm sure it will be fine_ , First Aid's optimistic side whispered gently. _If Knockout was really that bad, Ultra Magnus wouldn't allow him to join the Autobots. He's probably just misunderstood—needs a friend to help him integrate into the Autobot ranks._ With a fresh veneer of positivity over his attitude, First Aid palmed the doors open.

Haunting music filled the medbay as he entered. " _Welcome to my nightmare… I think you're gonna like it…_ "

 _Oh, boy…_ First Aid sighed. This was not a good omen.

As if on cue, Knockout glided out of a storage closet. He sung softly along with the song.

"Welcome to my nightmare, yeeeaaah—good morning, First Aid." He gave the young medic a toothy grin. "Ready for your first day?"

"Um—yes, sir." First Aid did his best to ignore the red optics glinting at him. "Do—do you normally listen to music while you work?"

"When I can. I find it relaxing." Knockout gestured vaguely around the room, as if to indicate the melody that filled it. "Alice Cooper. You like it?"

"It's…" First Aid struggled to find something complimentary to say. "It's very…musical." Oh, yeah. Well said. That didn't sound forced at all.

Knockout didn't seem to care, though. In fact, his grin grew wider at the reaction. "Lovely. Let's start the day off with an assessment, shall we?" He practically danced over to the main console, where there rested a pair of gloves and a clunky-looking headset. "Have you used virtual training programs before?"

First Aid nodded. "My first mentor taught me on those."

"Excellent." Knockout held out the headset and gloves. "Fortunately, we had these in storage. I'd have preferred a real, live body for the assessment, but strangely I couldn't find any volunteers."

First Aid hesitantly took the equipment. Knockout was so deadpan, he couldn't tell if the "volunteer" remark was the truth or a macabre joke. He wasn't sure which possibility unnerved him more. Somewhat ill at ease, he slipped on the headset. The visor flickered before displaying an image of an operating room. The simulation wasn't photorealistic, but it didn't need to be for an accurate test.

"I linked the headset to the monitor so I can watch your progress." Knockout's voice sounded tinny through the headset. "We'll start with a simple mesh-wound simulation and move up from there."

"All right." First Aid pulled on the gloves. Their circuitry would follow the movements of his hands, allowing him to interact with the simulation. The headset's visor flickered again and suddenly he was looking at a virtual mech with a gash on his arm. Energon seeped from the wound. The mech's vital stats were displayed in the corner of his vision, along with a timer. Speed was nearly as important as accuracy for a military medic.

"Ready to start the clock?" Knockout asked.

"Uh…" The creepy nightmare song was still playing. "Could we turn the music off first?"

"Now First Aid, a good medic should be able to work despite distractions." Knockout chided. The nurse thought he detected a sarcastic edge to the tone. "But I can change it to something more appropriate."

The song cut off. A second later, it was replaced with a jarring medley of synthesizer music, so shrill it almost sounded like a siren.

" _Don't ask for help, you're all alone… Pressure!..."_

First Aid let out a sigh. He tried to tune the song out as the timer started. It didn't take much thought; turn off pain receptors, check for debris in the wound, clean the area with disinfectant. The procedures were practically reflex for him now.

" _You used to call me paranoid… Pressure! But even you cannot avoid… Pressure!_ "

Smear on nanite-stimulating gel, apply a mesh bandage. Keep dry and change dressing once a day.

" _Now here you are with your faith and your Peter Pan advice—_ "

Knockout was mocking him, First Aid realized. This song was meant to get under his mesh. The young nurse, inexperienced, incapable of handling the pressures of the medical field. Fine—Knockout could taunt all he wanted. First Aid would just have to prove him wrong.

" _You have no scars on your face—_ "

First Aid froze.

" _—_ _And you cannot handle_ pressure _!_ "

First Aid ripped off the headset. He whirled to face Knockout. The older medic was startled by the motion. "Hey, you're not done yet—"

"You think that's funny?!" First Aid demanded. He didn't know how Knockout found out about it, but he did not have a right to bring it up like that. He could handle being teased but this—this was going too far!

"Yeah, it's slagging hilarious!" First Aid spat. "Let's taunt the nurse, see how much he'll take before he bursts into tears! Who told you?!"

"Told me what?" Knockout backed up a step. He looked baffled. Sincerely baffled. As if—First Aid stopped as another thought popped into his head.

"You…didn't know?" He said weakly.

"Didn't know _what_? What are you talking about?!" Knockout demanded. First Aid's anger puffed away as quickly as it had appeared. Knockout didn't know. The song had been a coincidence. And—and he'd just blown up at his commanding officer.

"I'm sorry," First Aid whispered. He seemed to shrink. "I thought—I made assumptions. I overreacted. I'm… I'm sorry, sir."

Knockout blinked at him. Silence hung heavy over the pair of them. "Ooo-kay then," he finally said, turning back to the console. With a snap of his fingers, the music shut off. "Let's try this again—without distractions this time."

First Aid nodded and put the headset back on. He distracted himself from his embarrassment by throwing himself into his work. Every simulation was finished quickly and with flying colors. Once they'd passed his current skill level, Knockout shut off the headset. They had a brief discussion of where their lesson plans would start, and then he sent First Aid to organize the storage room. A task First Aid did happily. It gave him a chance to escape Knockout's questioning gaze.


	4. Digging

"Why do you want to see First Aid's file?" Ultra Magnus demanded. Knockout didn't bother taking offense at his brusqueness.

"I'm curious." The medic said simply, still holding his hand out expectantly. "If I'm going to be training him, I deserve to know a bit more about him. Besides, it's typical for mentors to review their apprentice's dossiers. One might even say it's—protocol."

He'd said the magic word. Magnus scowled—more so than usual—but apparently couldn't find a reason to deny the request. He picked up a datapad from his desk, clicked a few buttons, and handed it over.

"I expect the datapad back when you're done," Magnus told him, still bristling with thinly-veiled suspicion. Knockout acknowledged the warning with a vague wave as he left the commander's office.

 _Now then, First Aid: let's see what you're hiding…_ Knockout scrolled through the datapad's contents. Like any military file, it was extensively detailed—a goldmine of information. Something in here should shed some light on why the little nurse had exploded earlier. Assuming it wasn't just an irrational hatred of Billy Joel.

The file, however, turned out to be as bland and unremarkable as the nurse himself. Sparked in the medical caste at the end of the Golden Age; raised by caretakers in the Iacon Sparkling Center; reached apprentice age just before the war broke out. Knockout sneered. It was a wonder First Aid had survived the first few years of combat. The medical caste was one of Cybertron's elite groups. They were coddled and pampered from the time they were sparked. They never had to fight for anything in their lives. Not like the mining caste, where you had to claw your way out of death's arms almost daily. It was no surprise that the Decepticons had enjoyed such success over the Autobots at the war's start. Megatron had united the working mechs, the ones hardened by fire and toil. The Autobots had only the gentry. The soft. The weak.

With a touch of disgust, Knockout continued scrolling through the file. There was nothing unusual in it. Clinic assignments, transfer logs, an obscene number of commendations. At last he reached First Aid's medical records. There were a handful of injuries listed, a number of upgrades, and—

 _Hello,_ Knockout thought with a smirk. _Is that a psych evaluation? Whatever could that be about?_ He tapped the link and the full report appeared. A psychological evaluation from nearly four million years ago—only a few decades after the war began. Performed at the request of a commanding officer, examining the effects of— the Delphi raid?

 _A Decepticon raid?_ Those certainly weren't pretty, but Knockout doubted they'd be that traumatizing. Except to the delicate psyche of a med-caste bot, of course. He kept reading.

 _Subject First Aid appears to be suffering Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder following the reported events at the Delphi medical center. Symptoms are severe; may lead to further disorders or suicide if left untreated. Recommend continued therapy session and leave of absence from active combat. May require exposure therapy to laser scalpels, as those appear to be the main trigger._

That was the entirety of the report, much to Knockout's chagrin. He sifted through every other entry in the file, but there were no further details about the Delphi incident. The Delphi medical clinic was listed as the nurse's first assignment after boot camp, but that was it. Disappointing.

 _So—a clinic, a Decepticon raid, and laser scalpels…_ Knockout thought speculatively. It wasn't much to go on, but it was something. More than he'd learned from First Aid—the nurse had remained stubbornly tight-lipped when he'd questioned him about his reaction to the song. But if there was one thing Knockout had learned in Megatron's ranks, it was how to wheedle out information. He'd find out the truth—one way or another.


	5. Study

First Aid jogged to the medbay. He was ten minutes early, as planned. Since his blow-up last week, he'd done everything he could to redeem his first impression. Get to the medbay early, leave late, do whatever Knockout assigned him without complaining. He even buffed his armor before coming in—Knockout put a lot of value in appearance. If Knockout noticed First Aid's efforts, he didn't show it. The older medic was nearly impossible to read. But it wouldn't stop First Aid from trying.

Taking a few calming vents, First Aid stepped into the medbay and was greeted with the sight of a dead body.

"Early as usual, I see." Knockout greeted from beside the corpse. He was arranging tools on a worktable next to the grayed-out frame.

"Um…yes, sir. Good morning, sir." Once First Aid's spark started pulsing again, he approached the dead mech on the berth. Now that the initial shock had worn off, he realized it must be here for practice; it was common for medics to train on cadavers. Though usually they were in better shape than this one.

"I see you've noticed our new friend." Knockout finished with the tools and smiled at his apprentice. "I thought it was time for you to practice on something more tangible."

"Shouldn't he have a head?"

"Not necessary." Knockout waved aside the concern. He walked around the table to join First Aid. "We're taking a slightly different route with the training today. You're going to determine this poor mech's cause of death."

"Well, again, he's missing his head-" First Aid began. Knockout quieted him with a wave of his hand.

"Don't make assumptions. The missing head could have happened at any time after death. You _can_ confirm whether it was removed before or after off-lining."

"By…checking the energon clotting in the severed neck cables?" First Aid was relieved when Knockout nodded. He relaxed a bit and started examining the body. His mentor stood to the side and watched him.

"Have you ever done autopsies before?"

First Aid shook his head. "It's not a job for nurses. And we usually didn't bother with them anyway."

"Right; in a war, the cause of death is usually fairly obvious." Knockout picked up a tool and turned it over in his hands idly. "So what's your verdict?"

"Well… from the lack of energon leakage in the neck cables, I'd say the head was removed after death. So that wasn't what killed him." First Aid eyed the body appraisingly. "The next likely culprit is the gaping hole in his chest."

"Observant. Open 'er up, then." Knockout tossed him the tool. "A laser scalpel would be the best tool for this."

"Of course." First Aid flicked it on and began cutting through the corpse's chestplates. He missed the disappointed look that flickered across Knockout's face. The older medic lingered beside First Aid as he worked. His claw-like fingers tapped a beat on the table. First Aid ignored it; at least it wasn't music this time.

"All right, it looks like the cause of death was a ruptured spark chamber." The nurse concluded. "Which in turn was caused by a plasma bolt to the chest. Is that correct?"

"Precisely. I imagine you saw a lot of that at Delphi, eh?"

First Aid faltered at the name. "I...how'd you know I was stationed at Delphi?"

"It was in your file." Knockout watched him with discerning optics. "You didn't spend much time there, did you?"

"Uh..." First Aid shook his helm, both to answer and to clear the memories that were threatening to resurface. "No, I didn't."

"Did the Decepticon raid shut it down?"

"Yes." First Aid resumed his study of the cadaver, hoping his superior would let the topic drop. Knockout, however, apparently couldn't take the hint.

"So what happened there exactly?" The medic pressed. "I couldn't find much information on it. Did you—"

"I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" First Aid cried. It took him a second to realize he'd shouted at his superior officer, again.

"I mean…" he muttered, shrinking away submissively. "I'd…rather not talk about it, sir. If that's all right with you."

Knockout frowned. First Aid's spark pounded in terror as the silence stretched on.

"…Fine." Knockout said at last. First Aid sagged in relief. "Just continue with the autopsy."

"Thank you, sir." First Aid replied gratefully. He never thought he'd be so happy to examine a corpse. Knockout wandered away from the table while First Aid resumed his study of the cadaver. The sounds of his mentor cleaning were a calming background to his work.

"Oh, look what I found!"

First Aid turned around just in time to see Knockout toss something at him. He caught the object, nearly fumbling it. The spherical metal object looked oddly familiar. He held it up to get a closer look, and that was when he noticed it had a face. He dimly registered the gaping mouth, the wide optics, and the severed neck cables before he crashed into stasis.

* * *

First Aid awoke to the sensation of tapping on his face.

"First Aid?" A distant voice called. "First Aaaaid? Don't make me get out the defibrillator."

First Aid's optics fuzzed as they came back online. After a moment, the red-and-silver blob in front of him focused into the face of a mech, staring down at him with his red optics.

"Feel better?" Knockout asked. First Aid instinctively ran a self-diagnostic. Everything came up clean. He was lying on his back and his legs seemed to be propped up on a stool.

"Wha...?" He groaned, his vocalizer still calibrating.

"You took a little nap." Knockout stood up, giving First Aid room to lever himself into a sitting position. He felt shaky, but that was to be expected if he'd fainted. That would explain why his legs were elevated, too. He glanced up to thank Knockout for the help and froze. Was the older medic holding-?

"Something wrong?" Knockout quirked an eye-brow ridge in confusion. But First Aid could only stare at the severed head he was cradling in one arm like a lob-ball. Its face was fixed in an expression of shock, optics gazing unblinkingly into First Aid's own.

"Ah...Ah..."First Aid squeaked, unable to form words. He pointed shakily at the head.

"Oh, this. I found our friend's missing cranium in one of the storage cabinets. Must've left it there by accident—silly me." Knockout tossed the head casually into the air and caught it again.

First Aid finally got enough control to speak. "Why... why did you throw it at me?"

"To test your reflexes. And help your nerves." Suddenly, Knockout threw the head in First Aid's direction. The nurse caught it out of instinct. He hastily dropped the head and scrambled across the floor, putting as much distance between himself and those unseeing optics as possible.

"See? You didn't faint that time. Those nerves are toughening up." Knockout sauntered back to his work station, leaving First Aid to have a staring contest with the head. "You're welcome."

* * *

 **This is sort of a filler chapter. The action will pick up next time. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed KO being a total jerkface!**


	6. Memories

After the head incident, Knockout went easier on his trainee. He at least didn't mention Delphi again. The weeks passed, and First Aid's training progressed enough that Knockout started letting him man the medbay. Aid quickly noticed that the number of patients increased substantially when Knockout was gone. Knowing how the other Autobots felt about him, that wasn't surprising. They'd rather deal with an apprentice medic than the manic sports car.

There was one exception to this rule, though. The Vehicons always waited for Knockout. That wasn't surprising, either—by all accounts, Knockout had been the only medic aboard Megatron's ship. The Vehicons were already used to him. What was surprising was how their presence seemed to transform Knockout. The condescension and macabre humor vanished. He and the normally silent Vehicons would chat amicably. During checkups, he often heard his mentor chuckling as he shared a humorous story. It was the only time Knockout's smile seemed genuine.

First Aid couldn't help but be curious. Snooping wasn't in his nature, but he itched to investigate this matter more. After all, it couldn't hurt to find out more about his mentor. If he understood Knockout better, maybe he could make their working relationship less…awkward.

His opportunity came one afternoon when Knockout was out racing. He'd left First Aid to record and organize their supplies. He was in the middle of the task when a Vehicon poked his head into the room.

"Knockout, I—oh." The Vehicon sounded disappointed as he saw First Aid. "Is Knockout here?"

"He went racing. I can help you, though." First Aid offered.

"Uh..." The Vehicon hesitated. First Aid smirked beneath his mask.

"It's all right. I don't bite."

"No, of course not… Okay." The Vehicon entered, cradling one arm that was sluggishly leaking energon. "You're…First Aid, right?"

"That's right." First Aid affirmed as he settled his patient on the examination table. "And your name is—?"

"Officially, it's ST-3V3. But most people call me Steve."

"Nice to meet you, Steve. Just hold still while I turn off your pain receptors." First Aid gingerly opened the access panel on the back of the mech's head. "So what happened to your arm?"

Steve fidgeted sheepishly. "I was picking up a girder and my arm sorta twisted and—I dunno what snapped, but now I can't move it. And it hurts like the Pit."

"You probably misaligned your elbow joint," First Aid said, examining the arm. He noticed as he worked that Steve remained tense, even though he shouldn't be feeling any pain anymore.

"Nervous?" he asked. Steve looked even more sheepish.

"Sorry… I've just had some bad experiences with medics." Steve admitted. "I know you're an Autobot and all, but—"

"It's all right; I understand." First Aid assured him gently as he repaired the arm's damaged mechanisms. "Besides, it's always disconcerting to have a new medic work on you. You're probably used to Knockout at this point."

"Yeah. He's been the only medic around since Breakdown died."

First Aid paused. "Who's Breakdown?"

"Knockout's assistant. Or he was," Steve sighed, shoulders drooping. "He was the only officer who treated us like bots instead of mindless drones. He always made sure we were comfortable during our checkups."

"Oh." Silence hung over them for a moment before First Aid found the nerves to breach the sensitive question. "How did he die?"

"He was killed by this glitch femme named Airachnid." Steve spat. "And then a bunch of humans stole his body and put their leader inside it."

"That's…disturbing."

"Tell me about it." Steve growled. "Knockout put a stop to that real quick."

First Aid was silent. He could only guess how Knockout had "put a stop" to the human's leader. Mercy was not something Decepticons usually practiced. He quickly pulled his imagination back from that morbid path. "Breakdown sounds like he was a good mech. I'm sorry for your loss."

Steve gave a half-hearted shrug. "That stuff happens in a war. It hit Knockout harder than anyone. I think he started taking better care of us as a way of honoring Breakdown's memory."

First Aid perked up, intrigued. "Were they close?"

Steve froze, as if suddenly realizing he'd said something he shouldn't have. "Well… nobody really got close in the Decepticons. Megatron didn't look kindly on things like friendship."

"So they _were_ close."

"…Yeah. Practically brothers." Steve confessed. "Not that they'd admit it, but…you could tell. We could all tell."

"Hmm." First Aid hummed quietly. Neither of them spoke again while First Aid finished the repairs. But despite his stoic exterior, First Aid was elated. At last, some light was shed on his enigmatic mentor! True, the news was tragic, but it was also telling. It explained Knockout's uncaring persona so well.

For the rest of the day, First Aid worked with a bounce in his step, waiting impatiently for Knockout's return. If Steve was correct about Breakdown, this could be the key to connecting with his teacher. Not only had Knockout lost a good friend, but he'd been unable to mourn properly among the Decepticons. He was undoubtedly aching to confide in someone. First Aid was always willing to listen to people's problems. He'd help Knockout come to terms with Breakdown's death, and the relief would erase the tension between them. Knockout would be less distant and he and First Aid could finally develop a real mentor-student relationship. He glowed at the prospect.

Knockout finally appeared as evening rolled around, his armor coated with copper dust from the roads. He looked around the gleaming medbay with the barest hint of approval. "I see you've kept everything in one piece."

"Yes, sir!" First Aid answered a bit too enthusiastically. Knockout gave him a sideways glance.

"You're chipper today," he he retrieved his cosmetic supplies.

"Yes, sir. It's just been a good day, sir." First Aid rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, wondering how best to broach the subject of Breakdown. He wanted Knockout to relax a bit before he mentioned it, but if he waited too long, Knockout would get absorbed in his grooming. "Can I help you with your paint job, sir?" He asked, hoping the offer would put Knockout at ease.

"I'm all right, thank you." Knockout didn't even look up as he started wiping down his armor. "Were there any emergencies while I was gone?"

"No, sir. Just a few anti-viral updates and a Vehicon with a misaligned joint."

"Uh-huh…" Knockout was getting absorbed in his polishing. It was now or never.

"The Vehicon and I had a bit of a conversation," First Aid began.

"Uh-huh."

First Aid steleed himself and plunged on. "And he told me about Breakdown."

Knockout's polishing cloth faltered for just a second. He quickly resumed his cleaning, but it was more vigorous than before. "Is that so?" He remarked, trying to sound nonchalant. But the way he avoided First Aid's gaze said enough.

"Yes. He told me what happened to him." First Aid paused. "I'm so sorry for your loss, sir."

Knockout chucked the rag in the waste bin and turned back to his box of cosmetics, still avoiding First Aid's eye. "No big deal. He was just an assistant."

"You say that, sir, but I don't think you believe it." First Aid pressed. His tone softened as if he were talking to a distraught sparkling. "I know it's hard to lose a friend. And it's even harder when you have to hide your grief from everyone. I just want you to know that if you want to talk to someone, I'm here to—"

Something metallic flashed by First Aid's face. He turned his head slightly to see a scalpel, quivering slightly, embedded in the wall. He looked back at Knockout. The doctor's arm was still extended from throwing the blade. His red optics smoldered with suppressed fury.

"Let's get something straight," Knockout hissed, voice deceptively calm. "You are my underling, not my therapist. Don't ever presume otherwise."

"I-I know, but I just want to help! It's not healthy to keep your feelings all bottled up. If you just talked—" First Aid shut up as Knockout picked up another scalpel. Primus, if looks could kill…

"Get out. Before I vent my feelings with some target practice." Knockout hefted the blade as if to throw it. First Aid decided to comply. Within ten seconds, Knockout was alone in the medbay, his only company a scalpel and the footsteps of his fleeing apprentice.


	7. Fear

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three," Bulkhead answered with a frown. "I hurt my _foot_ , Aid; my head is fine."

"Just checking. A full systems diagnostic never hurt." First Aid insisted. "Now, how does your foot feel? Joints all aligned? Any nerve surges?"

"It feels good as new. Thanks." Bulkhead got up from the rock he was resting on and made to leave.

"Are you sure?" The nurse asked, blocking his path. "I should double-check the repairs to make sure I didn't miss anything."

"You've checked it three times. If you've missed anything at this point, you're blind." Bulkhead pushed past him. First Aid trailed after him as he walked back to the construction site.

"What about the Vehicons?" The nurse asked almost desperately. "Any work injuries?"

"Not since your last round of repairs—three hours ago."

"Do any of them seem like they need a follow-up?"

"No."

"I think I saw in their files that some of them are behind on their virus updates—"

Bulkhead turned around and fixed First Aid with a questioning gaze. "What's your deal, Aid? You're being all… mother hen-y."

"What? No! I'm just making sure everyone's okay!" First Aid stammered. "It's my job."

"Well, you've done your job; everyone's fine. And if someone gets hurt, I'll send them to the medbay—you don't need to hang around the construction zone."

First Aid looked away. He hadn't returned to medbay since the…incident a few days ago. The murderous look on Knockout's face was burned into his memory. He'd tried to go in the day after it happened and apologize, but the melting glare he'd received from his mentor had driven him away. He gave an involuntary shudder at the thought.

Bulkhead frowned. He might not be the smartest mech, but he could tell when someone was scared. He placed a large hand on First Aid's shoulder, causing the nurse to jump in alarm. "What's wrong, Aid? Did Knockout kick you out of the medbay?"

"Oh, it's nothing!" First Aid said, a falsely cheery tone in his voice. "There was a, uh…a little misunderstanding. But it's no big deal. Knockout just thinks I can respond to emergencies better if I stay out here."

Bulkhead was unconvinced. First Aid squirmed under his discerning gaze.

"Aid," the ex-Wrecker said slowly. "Did Knockout hurt you?"

"No! Of course not!" First Aid's discomfort grew as Bulkhead continued to scare. "He…might've thrown a couple things, but he didn't hurt me."

"What did he throw?"

"…Scalpels. But he missed!" First Aid hastily clarified as Bulkhead's optics bugged out in alarm. "In fact, I'm pretty sure he missed on purpose. I'm just giving him to a few days to calm down before I go back. So really, it's no problem."

"I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure throwing scalpels at somebody is a problem. Have you told Ultra Magnus?"

First Aid sighed. "Look—I can take care of this. I don't want to get Magnus involved, and I don't want to get Knockout in trouble." _Because he'd kill me,_ the nurse thought to himself. Bulkhead still looked concerned, but he didn't protest any further as First Aid picked up his toolkit. "If you're all taken care of, I'm going to go check on the new arrivals."

First Aid drove away from the site as quickly as he could. He hoped Bulkhead wouldn't tell anyone what he'd heard. Knockout had reacted poorly to the mention of Breakdown, but surely he wouldn't hold a grudge about it. First Aid would go back in a few days when his mentor had had enough time to blow off steam.

In fact… why not check now? First Aid altered his course for the Nemesis. Three days was long enough for anyone to calm down. Besides, it wasn't healthy to let these things fester. The sooner they got it resolved, the better.

Despite his pep talk, though, First Aid found himself slowing as he approached the ship. He tried to urge his wheels on, but they froze as if stuck in axle-deep mud. _Come on,_ he scolded himself. _You can't avoid Knockout forever._ _Stop being such a coward_. But his wheels remained stationary. The more he tried to push himself, the more the image of Knockout's optics seared in his mind. Those terrifying scarlet optics, burning with fury, promising pain to the mech before them.

First Aid pulled a tight turn and sped away from the ship as fast as his wheels would take him. He'd wait another day or two—just to be safe.


	8. Busted

**This chapter is dedicated to journal 129, who roleplayed this chapter out with me. Much of First Aid's dialogue is hers, or inspired by hers. Thanks, buddy!**

* * *

First Aid felt a sense of foreboding as Ultra Magnus approached. He gulped and hastily saluted. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Come with me, please. Your presence is needed at an inquiry."

That didn't sound good. First Aid glanced at the working Vehicons, trying to scrounge up an excuse. "I—I'm very sorry sir, but I can't just leave them. What if there's an accident? What if I can't get back here fast enough?"

"This won't take long." Magnus replied shortly, already walking back to the ship.

"But, sir—"

"This is an order, First Aid. Not a request." The nurse shrank beneath the commander's stern gaze. Reluctantly, his subspaced his medical kit and followed the larger mech back to the ship. Magnus' office was easily identified—it was the only door labeled with a placard. As they entered, First Aid noticed two other mechs sitting across from the desk. One of them turned to watch them as they walked in. Aid immediately recognized him as Ratchet—the Autobot CMO was renowned. And next to him was…Knockout.

First Aid's spark pounded. He stood frozen as Ultra Magnus took a seat behind his desk. Knockout stared straight ahead, not looking at anyone.. Aid could practically feel the animosity rolling off him in waves.

"Sit down, First Aid." Magnus ordered. Ratchet indicated a chair on the other side of him, the furthest seat from Knockout. The nurse reluctantly took a seat.

"I've called this inquiry due to rumors of an incident in the med-bay. First Aid—" Magnus fixed him with a penetrating gaze. "Why haven't you been in the medbay for the past week?"

"I've…been attending to the Vehicons." First Aid said slowly. "You know how accident-prone they are; I figured it would be better to have a medic on-site to deal with problems immediately. More efficient."

"Is that the only reason?" Ultra Magnus continued before Aid has a chance to respond. "One of the Vehicons reported hearing yelling in the medbay a week ago. He witnessed you running out—'in a panic,' were his exact words. And, as far as I can tell, you haven't returned to the medbay since. So I ask—did Knockout assault you?"

First Aid fidgeted, staring down at this hands. "Well...the definition of assault is physically harming someone...so...no?"

Ratchet narrowed his optics. "You're hedging."

"Nothing happened! Not a mark on me, see?" First Aid insisted. Neither of the Autobot officers looked convinced. Knockout continued to stare ahead of him. His expression was inscrutable.

"Bulkhead said you seemed frightened," Magnus prompted.

"Frightened? Me? Nonono. I'm...I'm just the nervous sort of mech. That's all." First Aid insisted. "Ask anyone who knows me. I'm skittish."

Ratchet gave him such a forceful glare that Aid could feel the doctor's disapproval piercing his soul. "There's something you're not telling us."

"I…I…" First Aid shrunk before the scrutiny. "Why's it so important, anyways?"

"If there's danger to any of our teammates, it must be addressed, and the perpetrators dealt with." Magnus glanced at Knockout as he said this.

First Aid fiddled with his fingers. "I—it was a misunderstanding, sir. I broached a sensitive topic and it upset Knockout. He made it clear that I'd crossed a line, and I overreacted. It was all my fault, sir."

"Hmm." Ultra Magnus looked at Knockout. "Do you have anything to say, Knockout?

Knockout heaved an exasperated sigh. "I threw a knife at him."

The officers tensed up as if they'd been jolted.

"He threw a _knife_ at you?!" Ratchet demanded.

"It was a scalpel…and I'm pretty sure he missed on purpose. It's not a big deal."

"Like slag it isn't!" Ratchet gave Knockout the evil eye. The scarlet mech didn't meet his gaze.

"Ratchet is right. I threw a scalpel at an innocent bot with no provocation. I'm a bad, bad Autobot." Knockout said in a monotone. Ultra Magnus scowled.

"Well, then. First Aid—you'll be training under Ratchet for the foreseeable future. You two are dismissed."

Ratchet stood to leave. First Aid remained in his seat. He glanced guiltily at Knockout, who hadn't moved at all during the inquiry.

"Knockout-this is a serious offense and a violation of your probation." Ultra Magnus said sternly. "You're confined to quarters until we can decide on the consequences of this crime."

"What?" First Aid jumped up. "Sir, I didn't press charges—!"

Magnus met his gaze cooly. "A crime has been committed whether you press charges or not."

"But—"

"That's all, First Aid. You're dismissed."

Ratchet grasped his shoulder. "Come on, kid." First Aid followed him out of the office, casting one last hopeless glance back at the mech he'd condemned.

* * *

First Aid tossed and turned in his berth. He'd been lying here for hours, trying to go into recharge. He'd briefly considered using a sedative, but those were for emergencies, not insomniac mechs. He sighed. Sleep was apparently not coming tonight.

First Aid slipped out of his quarters, silently so as not to disturb anyone in the adjacent rooms. Maybe a walk would calm his mind enough to sleep. He started toward the main entrance, then thought better of it. Someone was always on guard there and he didn't want to have to explain himself. He turned down another hallway—there was a maintenance hatch down here big enough to be used as a door. There shouldn't be anyone there. Unfortunately, the lesser-used hallway lacked the emergency lights that illuminated the main hall. Oh, well—he could manage. First Aid groped his way down the dark corridor, drinking in the peaceful silence.

Aid paused. He thought he heard another set of footsteps nearby. Probably just an echo—no one else was up this late. He started walking again. The door should be just ahead.

Suddenly, as if responding to his thoughts, a gap opened in the wall ahead, revealing the empty landscape outside. As moonlight poured through the open maintenance hatch, it silhouetted a mech by the control panel. As if sensing that he was being watched, the mech turned around, optics glowing brightly in the dark. Red optics.

First Aid stopped dead. Knockout didn't move. They both stood motionless for what seemed like ages.

"…Well?" The red mech finally snapped. "Are you going to do something, or just stand there like a turbofox in the headlights?"

"I, uh…" First Aid gulped. "What are you doing out of your quarters?"

"I believe it's commonly called sneaking out." Knockout stepped outside, and First Aid found himself following. "If you're going to rat on me, could you wait a couple hours? I need a drive or I'll go insane."

"Oh—no. I mean yes. I mean—I'm not going to tell on you." First Aid sighed. He hated when he floundered. "Actually, since you're here, I—I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Knockout stopped. He gave Aid a questioning look.

"I'm sorry about getting you in trouble with Ultra Magnus…and I'm sorry for pushing you about Breakdown. I know what it's like to lose a friend, and I know it hurts to talk about. I shouldn't have pressed the matter. I'm sorry."

Knockout stared at him incredulously. "…You're apologizing."

First Aid nodded.

"I threw a scalpel at you… and you're apologizing." Knockout sighed. He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "You've got to be the Autobotiest Autobot I've ever met."

"Uh…pardon?" First Aid asked. He flinched as Knockout suddenly grasped his shoulder. But the contact seemed friendly, not aggressive. As he met the older mech's gaze, he saw something in his optics—perhaps not compassion, but as near to compassion as he'd ever seen in Knockout.

"Friendly tip: there's a difference between being polite and being a doormat." Knockout said with a hint of a smirk. "I know they really pound all that 'selflessness and peace' scrap into your processer, but there are times when you need to stand up for yourself. Put your foot down and say 'I'm not going to take this slag anymore.' Have you ever said that?"

"Not…really." First Aid admitted. "I'm a medic. It's in my programming to put others before myself."

"You can't help many bots if you're dead." First Aid couldn't argue with that. A heavy silence hung over them as Knockout removed his hand. First Aid shifted his weight, wondering what to say. The silence stretched longer and his anxiety increased.

"…Who'd you lose?"

"Excuse me?" First Aid looked up.

"You said you lost someone. Who was it?"

"Oh." First Aid hesitated. A dull ache ran through his spark at the memory. "His…his name was Ambulon. He was the ward manager at my first outpost. Kind of a gearstick, but…a good bot."

"Decepticons?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." Knockout hummed softly. "My condolences."

"Thanks." First Aid met his gaze again. "I'm…sorry about Breakdown."

Knockout didn't respond. The light in his optics dimmed slightly as he stared off into space. "…Thanks for your concern." Without another word, he transformed and drove off. First Aid waved the dust cloud out of his face with a cough. He stared after the red blur receding into the distance, uncertain, but hoping he'd set things somewhat to rights.


	9. Justice and Mercy

**A/N: a good chunk or Arcee's dialogue was written by my friend, journal129. When you're done reading this chapter, I suggest you bounce over to her profile and look at some of her work. :) It's excellent.  
**

* * *

The room felt uncomfortably hot. First Aid tried not to fidget. He shouldn't be so nervous, but standing before the whole of Team Prime was intimidating. But he couldn't be daunted—this was important.

"—Next on the agenda," Ultra Magnus continued, "We need to discuss Knockout's punishment for his assault on First Aid."

"Throw him in the brig." Arcee growled, cutting off Aid as he tried to speak up. "He's had his chance; he blew it."

"'Cee, this is the first mistake he's made since he joined the Autobots." Bumblebee pointed out. "It's not like he defected yesterday—he's had two years of a spotless record. That's got to count for something."

Arcee opened her mouth to retort, but Ultra Magnus interrupted. "Before we debate further, First Aid has requested a chance to speak on the matter."

All optics in the room turned to watch the nurse. First Aid gulped and stood. He had to lock his knee joints to keep from trembling. "Well…according to section 810, paragraph 62 of the Autobot Code, the injured party in a dispute has the right to suggest lawful punishments."

Ultra Magnus nodded. Encouraged, Aid continued. "I suggest that Knockout's time confined to quarters count as his sole punishment for this incident."

The other bots gaped at him with varying degrees of disbelief. Even Ultra Magnus looked taken aback.

"Are you serious?" Ratchet demanded. "You want to let him off that easy? He threw a knife at you!"

"A scalpel, actually. And he missed on purpose."

"You don't know that." Arcee said darkly. "This is a sign—he's tired of pretending to be good and he's letting his true colors show again."

" _Or_ it's a sign that I pushed his patience too far," First Aid gestured to Bumblebee. "Like Bumblebee said, he's had two years without an incident. You can't discount that because he lost his temper once."

"Throwing a scalpel isn't 'losing your temper'—it's malicious intent!" Ratcher insisted.

"You never call it that when you throw wrenches at us," Smokescreen quipped.

"That—that's different!"

First Aid ignored the arguing and focused on Magnus. The commander eyed him coolly, as if trying to read his mind. First Aid held his gaze, trying to seem confident.

"I still need a mentor." He stated. "I'm nowhere near close to being a certified medic. And I know Ratchet can't afford to stay here much longer."

Ratchet frowned- First Aid was right, but he didn't want to admit that. "That's not a problem…you could come back to Earth with me. I can train you just as well there as I can here."

"Unless the situation has changed since I got here, I'm still needed on Cybertron. There's too many bots here for one medic. Even if Knockout could take care of them all himself, he couldn't do it from the brig. We need him free." First Aid cheered internally as Magnus turned contemplative.

Arcee noticed the change. "Sir, you can't really be considering this?"

"First Aid is right—we need Knockout free to perform his duties. And since this was a first offense, and the victim is advocating for lenience…" Magnus met First Aid's gaze. "Are you sure you can work with him again?"

"Positive." Aid replied with all the certainty he could muster.

"In that case, we'll put it to a vote." Magnus looked around at the assembled mechs. "All in favor of sentencing Knockout to brig time?"

Arcee's hand shot up. No votes followed hers, despite the glare she issued everyone in the room.

"Noted. All in favor of releasing Knockout with a warning and time served?"

Bumblebee raised his hand. The rest followed suit, some more reluctantly than others. Magnus nodded "It's decided, then. Knockout will be released. However, this will be his only warning. If there are future incidents, the consequences will be more severe. First Aid—if you become aware of any suspicious or dangerous behavior, I expect you to inform one of us immediately."

"Yes, sir." First Aid saluted. Ultra Magnus dismissed the council. The nurse was the first out of the door. He vented in relief. That had worked out better than he'd expected, even if it was nerve-wracking. Hopefully he wouldn't have to speak like that again. As he headed back to the medbay, someone seized his shoulder and spun him around. He suddenly found himself face-to-face with a furious-looking Arcee.

"Why did you do that?" She demanded.

"P-pardon?" First Aid took a step back, feeling like a petrorabbit under the gaze of a turbofox.

"Why did you let Knockout off so easy? He attacked you!"

"He frightened me—he didn't actually hurt me. Besides, Autobots are supposed to be merciful. I just want to make sure he's treated fairly."

"Treated fairly?! Do you know anything about his past?" Arcee jabbed him in the chestplates. "He's a coward, a psychopath, and a butcher who only switched sides to save his tailpipe. He's dissected, experimented on, and _murdered_ Autobot prisoners without mercy. He deserves a lot worse than brig time."

First Aid steeled himself and met her glare with one of his own. "Bots can change, ma'am. He deserves a second chance."

"People like him don't change," Arcee spat. "I know from experience. Experience _you_ don't have."

A spark of indignation flared inside the nurse. He took a deep breath, trying to quash it. "I have plenty of experience, and I know people can become better."

"You know nothing." Arcee growled, jabbing him again. "You're green. Soft. You don't know how tough the war was. You don't know how ruthless the 'Cons were. You don't know what it's like to see a partner slaughtered in front of you!"

First Aid batted her hand away. The sudden movement surprised her, but not as much as the sudden fury that erupted from the meek medic.

"You don't know anything about me!" First Aid hissed. "I know exactly what Decepticons are capable of. They're the reason half the staff at my first station are gone. They're the reason my best friend is dead! They're the reason I—"

His voice cracked. Unable to finish the sentence, he looked away, glad the visor hid his tears. "I know how cruel they can be." He finally choked out. "I also know we should never ever sink to their level."

Arcee's processor overcame her shock. She scowled at him patronizingly. "It's not sinking to their level to dole out justice."

"I don't think it's justice you want." Aid shot back. "I may be going too easy on Knockout—but I prefer being too lenient to being too harsh. And if the stories about Optimus Prime are true, he would agree."

Arcee stiffened. A long moment passed, the two bots staring each other down.

At last, Arcee glanced away. "You didn't know Optimus at all…which is why it's ridiculous that you're right." With that, she stormed away.


	10. Panic Room

"There's a Decepticon ship landing!"

Those were the first words out of Bumblebee's mouth as he skidded into the medbay. First Aid nearly dropped a beaker in surprise. Knockout cursed as the distraction caused him to scratch his paint.

"Can't you knock?" the medic demanded, immediately snatching up a buffing rag.

"This is important! There are Decepticons landing and they're requesting medical aid." Bumblebee continued. "Magnus had them set down a few miles away—Bulkhead and I are coming with you."

"Can't leave 'Cons unsupervised…" Knockout muttered under his breath, but he began packing his field kit.

First Aid helped him, trying to ignore the shiver of fear creeping up his spine. This was the first Decepticon ship to return to Cybertron since its restoration. Aside from Knockout, everyone on the planet was either Autobot or Neutral. First Aid prayed this new arrival wouldn't upset the delicate peace they'd achieved. He also prayed he could handle it without having a breakdown…

Within ten minutes, the doctors and their entourage were speeding toward the ship. Even from a distance, it looked awful, sagging on its landing gear like a beaten animal. A cloud of greasy smoke rose from the engines.

"The _Weak Anthropic Principle_." Bulkhead read from the hull. "Weird name."

"It's a theory about the relative and probable values of cosmological quantities, based on the requirements concerning evolved life." First Aid put in, trying to be helpful. The explanation was met with dead silence.

"…I understood none of that," Bumblebee admitted.

"It's quantum physics jargon," Knockout said simply. "Let's just get this job done."

As they pulled to a stop at the ship's open entry hatch, a soot-covered mech with goggles perched atop his head came running out. He motioned frantically for them to enter. "Hurry! They're dying!"

"I'm not dying!" A gruff voice shouted from inside the ship. Bumblebee and Bulkhead led the way through the entry, the medics coming close behind. The ship's interior wasn't much better than the outside. There wasn't much damage, but clutter was everywhere—from empty Engex cans to foam darts. First Aid shrunk back as they walked through the halls. _It's just a ship,_ he told himself. _It can't hurt you, no matter who it belongs to._ A Decepticon emblem was stenciled on the wall; it seemed to leer at them as they passed. First Aid hurriedly looked away, focusing on the sigil on his own chest. The red Autobot symbol calmed him down. Autobots meant safety.

The goggled mech took them into the ship's medbay—though it was so poorly stocked, it hardly merited the term. Four other mechs sat inside, in various states of injury. The sight of leaking energon spurred First Aid out of his funk. "What happened?" He demanded as he hurried to one of the injured.

"Pirates," a blue mech grumbled. He cradled his damaged arm closer, though the arm looked fine compared to the chunk missing from his helm. "They shot out one of our engines while we were flying away, and then the slaggin' thing exploded while Spinister and Misfire were trying to fix it."

"We barely got away," one of the other mechs said through his battle mask.

"The good news is, none of your injuries look fatal." Knockout said as he examined a comatose helicopter-former lying on a berth. "This fellow seems to be the worst off, but it's nothing a few welds and a good polish won't fix."

"Thank Primus." Sighed the masked mech. "I'm Krok, by the way—the captain. The one on the berth is Spinister."

The rest of the crew was introduced as the Autobots tended to them. As Knockout had said, their damages were fairly easy to treat. The worst was Crankcase's massive helm injury, but apparently that was an old wound and could wait. The goggled mech, Fulcrum, was fortunately unscathed.

"This isn't fair," Misfire whined as First Aid patched him up. "I always get to do the introductions."

"Maybe you can introduce everyone to the rest of the Autobots when you come back with us," First Aid consoled him. The sight of the Decepticon symbol on the mech's chassis was sending his anxiety into overdrive, but the work helped him keep it in check. Misfire's constant chatter helped too, even it wasn't entirely lucid.

"It's not the same," Misfire complained, pouting. "Stupid pirates…they're just lucky I didn't meet them head-on. I'd have torn them apart."

"Uh-huh."

"Really! I'm whirlwind in a fight. Like a cornered turbofox—all teeth and claws."

"I'll make sure never to get in a fight with you, then." First Aid said softly. Misfire gave him a lopsided smile.

"You know, you're all right for an Autobot. What's your name again?"

"First Aid."

"I'm gonna call you First Aid-orable."

The nurse sputtered, speechless. He heard Knockout stifle a laugh, which only served to fluster him more. "I—I'm not adorable!"

"Yes you are." Misfire fluttered his wings, beaming. "You're First Aid-orable. It's official."

"It could be worse," Fulcrum told the nurse. "My nickname is 'Loser.'"

"B-but—"

"Shut your adorable mouth and finish the repairs." Knockout said dryly. First Aid resumed his work, face burning with embarrassment. Fortunately, they finished soon after that.

"You'll need to come with us to see Ultra Magnus," Bumblebee informed Krok. "It shouldn't take too long."

"Right. You lot, take it easy and don't destroy the ship while I'm gone." Krok ordered as they left. First Aid packed his tools back up as quickly as possible. He was relieved he'd made it through without having a panic attack, but he still wanted to get out of here.

"Thanks again," Fulcrum told the medics.

"It's our job," Knockout replied, subspacing his field kit. "Let's go, First Aid-orable."

First Aid huffed, but followed without retort.

"Wait, you forgot something!"

First Aid turned back. The Decepticon was proffering something—he must have forgotten it in his haste. A—

A laser scalpel.

The innocuous tool seemed to leap at him and suddenly he wasn't on the _W.A.P._ anymore. Operating lights streamed into his optics, blinding him, but he couldn't turn away. The scalpel hovered above his face, wielded by a sneering shadow. As the shadow bent over him, a purple emblem filled his vision, a face staring down on him in cold judgement—

"Aid!"

A hand smacked him across the face. He reeled back, blinking. Worried faces surrounded him, but he didn't register their concern; all he could see was the red optics and the violet emblems that loomed above him like swords ready to fall.

The world became a blur as he raced from the ship and across the deserted landscape. A voice in the back of his mind screamed that he was overreacting again, that he wasn't in danger, but he tuned it out. He zoomed onto the Nemesis and screeched down the halls, not stopping until he got to his quarters. The door slammed shut behind him. He slumped against it, sinking to the floor.

 _Breathe, Aid…just breathe_. He took deep vents, in and out, trying to calm the erratic pounding of his spark. And all the while he stared at the collage of Autobot symbols on the wall, the collage he'd been creating ever since Delphi. Autobots. Autbots meant safety.

Decepticons meant pain.


	11. Attack

**A/N: While preparing to publish chapter 12, I decided it would work better merged with chapter 11. So if any of you are getting a sense of deja vu, rest assured there's new content in the second half of the chapter.**

* * *

Bumblebee rapped on First Aid's door. "Aid? You awake? I brought you some energon."

A moment passed before the door opened. First Aid peeked out. "You didn't have to do that…"

"I did if I don't want you to starve to death." Bumblebee handed him an energon cube and a box of files. "Here's the next batch of medical records."

"Thanks. Here are the ones I've finished updating." First Aid handed him a box in return and started to close the door, but Bumblebee blocked it with his foot.

"You should get some fresh air, Aid. You haven't left your quarters for a week. Smokescreen and I are going for a drive around the Sea of Rust later—you could come with us." Bee smiled encouragingly.

First Aid looked away. "I…thanks for the offer, but I have work to do. You guys have fun, though." He nudged Bee's foot out of the door and slid it shut.

Bumblebee sighed. He trudged away. No one had been able to coax Aid out of his room since the Scavengers had arrived. Some of the team had accused the newcomers of harming him, but Krok's crew seemed genuinely oblivious and Aid insisted that they hadn't touched him. If they had caused the problem, they'd done it unintentionally. But that still left the Autobots with a reclusive nurse and an overworked medic lacking an assistant. Bee wasn't sure how they were going to solve this problem.

Knockout was busy mending a Vehicon's leg when Bumblebee entered the medbay.

"Unless you're bleeding out, take a number and get in line!" Knockout snapped without looking up. Bee waited silently for him to finish. A few minutes later, Knockout shooed the repaired Vehicon out. "Next! Oh, it's you."

"It's me." Bumblebee affirmed. "I talked to First Aid, He still won't come out."

"Lovely." Knockout said that word like a curse. He snatched up his tools and headed into the adjoining room were several refugees with Cosmic Rust were being quarantined. Bumblebee followed him. "He picked the worst time to have a meltdown."

"It's not like he planned it. What happened with the Scavengers anyway?"

"Nothing happened! Fulcrum handed him his scalpel, that's it—and he just fell apart." Knockout paused, looking thoughtful for a moment before shaking the expression off. "Anyway, he needs to pull himself together. We can't afford to let psychological issues stop us when there's work to be done."

Bee noticed he said "we," as if he included himself in that statement. He didn't inquire any further, though. Knockout avidly avoided any discussion of his past. "Any ideas on how we can convince him to come out again?"

"Short of setting his room on fire, no." Knockout sighed, a mix of weariness and exasperation. "We'll just have to wait for him to recover. I suppose I'll manage until then."

Bee reluctantly agreed. He wished they could do more for their teammate, but unless First Aid chose to open up to someone, their options were limited. He turned to leave—and report the latest failure to Ultra Magnus—when the alarms began blaring.

Knockout cursed as his patient jumped in surprise. "Hold still, you idiot! You'll dislocate the energon feed!" He barked, struggling to fix the line with the flashing alarms distracting him.

"What's happening?" Bee demanded, equally shocked. In answer, the intercoms clicked on. Ultra Magnus' voice filled the room.

"Attention: all security personnel report to the bridge immediately. Repeat, all security personnel to the bridge. This is not a drill."

Bee's spark sank. The security personnel were all the bots trained for combat. Magnus wouldn't call them all together unless something serious was going down. He sped out of the medbay, transforming to vehicle mode as soon as he got to the hall. He raced to the bridge as quickly as he could, grazing his paint several times when he took corners too hard. In the bridge, Ultra Magnus stood on the dais, overlooking the assembled bots with greater somberness than usual.

As the last bots rushed in, he raised his hand for silence. "An unidentified ship is attacking the settlement in Kalis." Gasps filled the bridge. "Details are scarce, but their intent is clear. They have already received and ignored a warning. Lethal force is now authorized. Understood?"

The gathered soldiers nodded soberly.

"Good. Group Alpha, you will be under Arcee's command. Group Beta, you will follow Bumblebee. Both of you will take the groundbridge to the site of attack immediately. Group Delta, come with me to the armory. We'll join the battle in fifteen cycles. Move out!"

With practiced haste, the group split into their squadrons. In a matter of minutes, Bumblebee and Arcee's troops were pouring through the groundbridge into Kalis. They were greeted by laser blasts plowing into the ground around them. A shower of debris rained down on their heads.

"Group Beta, this way!" Bumblebee shouted. His squadron followed him as the teams dashed for cover. "Fan out and look for survivors—our first priority is getting the civilians to safety."

The warriors split up to follow his orders. Bumblebee glanced up at the attacking ship. It was about half the size of the Nemesis, but it looked far more menacing. An acid-green sigil was painted on the hull—an alien skull with blades crossed beneath it.

 _Pirates_ , Bee thought. The ship wasn't landing; it simply hovered above the town, occasionally shooting off a laser blast. It didn't seem to be targeting anything in particular. It reminded Bee of a human halfheartedly swatting at flies. Bumblebee scanned their sparse surroundings. Why were the pirates even attacking here? This settlement was still in the tents-and-shanties stage; there was nothing of value to steal. And the pirates clearly weren't interested in mere genocide, or they'd be more methodical with their strafing run.

What were they up to?

* * *

First Aid jumped when the alarms sounded, scattering datapads across the floor. He vented deeply, trying to calm his racing spark as Ultra Magnus made his announcement through the intercoms.

"On, no…" Fearing the worst, he ran for the door. He hesitated only briefly before stepping into the hall. Grim-faced mechs and femmes rushed past him on their way to the bridge. He pushed his way through the crowd to the medbay. Inside, Knockout was rushing to prepare the operating room.

"What's wrong?" First Aid asked anxiously. If someone had been hurt and died because he hadn't been around to help—

"The camp in Kalis was attacked. We need to prep the medbay in case of casualties. So glad you could find the time to join me," Knockout snapped.

First Aid swallowed his guilt and got to work readying the medbay. His unease around Knockout was all but forgotten in the urgency of the situation. He couldn't let other bots suffer because of his panic attacks.

In the midst of their preparations, the lights began to flicker. Both medics glanced up.

"What was that?" First Aid asked.

"Hopefully nothing." Knockout murmured. As soon as the words left his mouth, every light in the medbay suddenly extinguished. The dying whir of machines powering down filled the room like a chorus of sighs. The mechs were left in complete darkness.

"…Scrap." Knockout hissed.

"Do we have a back-up generator?"

"Over here." Knockout led the way to a closet in the back of the room. Opening it revealed a hidden generator, dusty from lack of use. First Aid lit the area with his headlights while Knockout fiddled with it.

"Come on, you blasted—there!" He said with triumph after several long minutes. The generator began humming. The lights flickered back to life, and the essential machinery began running again.

"How long will this last?" First Aid demanded, worried for their patients.

"A few hours, as least. I'm more concerned with what happened to the main power." Knockout shut the closet and headed out of the medbay.

"Where are you going? We're on call!" First Aid objected, running after him. The halls were as dark as the medbay had been.

Knockout didn't even turn around. "Something is wrong; generators don't just go kaput for no reason. You can stay in the medbay if you're too scared to investigate."

First Aid huffed quietly. He bit back a retort—he could hardly counter the insult when he's spent the last week holed up in his room—and followed Knockout. The best thing to do in a crisis was stick together. The halls were eerily quiet as they made their way to the bridge. Too quiet. Hadn't Magnus left anyone to staff the ship?

First Aid spotted headlights coming toward them and relaxed. "Hey!" he called. "Do you know what happened to the lights?"  
No reply came for a moment, though First Aid heard an exchange of hushed whispers. "Generator malfunction," a gruff voice answered finally. "They should be coming back on any minute now."

"Oh, good." First Aid squinted at the group. He couldn't see much of any of them; in the glare of the headlights, it was hard to make out anything but vague silhouettes.

"…So, any word from Ultra Magnus yet?" the nurse asked, wanting to break the awkward silence. Knockout was strangely quiet beside him. "We have the medbay prepped for any casualties."

"No word yet." Said the gruff voice. "You two are medics, then? Reminds me of your names."

"Uh—I'm First Aid, and this is Knockout." First Aid felt an odd sinking in his tanks. Something here didn't feel right. They were the only two medics on the ship; everyone knew them. "And…you are?"

"No one important. Anyway, you need to come with us; we have orders to gather everyone in the bridge."

"Well, _we_ have orders to be on call in the medbay." Knockout replied coldly. "We just wanted to check on the state of the generators, so if you've got that handled, we'll be going. He tugged First Aid back toward the medbay. A hand flashed out and latched onto Aid's forearm."

"It's really not safe to be out here," the voice said softly. "You'd better come with us."

"We'd really rather not." Knockout growled.

A hum filled the halls suddenly. The lights snapped on all at once, dazzling the bots. First Aid shuttered his optics for a moment to let them adjust. When he reopened them, he got his first good look at the group they had been talking to. TO his surprise, only two of them were bots; the third was a large organic with wicked-looking tusks. All of them were heavily scarred, and all of them wore the same sigil painted or tattooed onto their chest. An alien skull with blades crossed beneath it.

"See? Told ya they'd come back on." Said the largest mech, the gruff-voiced one. He raised an obscenely large plasma cannon and leveled it at the medics. His companions followed suit.

"As I was saying," the pirate sneered." To the bridge. _Now_."


	12. Deja Vu

**Thanks to journal129 for beta-reading! Please review when you're done!**

* * *

First Aid marched beside Knockout, their hands crossed behind their heads. The pirates walked behind them. Occasionally one would jab them in the back with the muzzle of his gun, just to remind them who was in charge.

"Is that really necessary?" Knockout spat after the third such jab. "You're scratching my paint!"

"You're gonna have bigger problems than scratched paint if ya don't shut up." The organic pirate jabbed him again. Knockout muttered an insult, but he didn't complain again. First Aid said nothing; he was too busy trying not to hyperventilate. This situation was hauntingly familiar, and it was all he could do to hold the impending meltdown at bay. Their captors herded them into the bridge. A horde of unsavory characters loitered there—a mix of bots and organics from various planets, all wearing the same skull-and-swords sigil. The Autobots Magnus had left behind were crowded into a corner, guarded by several pirates.

A stocky, four-armed alien eyed the medics as they were ushered to the other captives. "Is that the last of them?"

"I think so," the gruff-voiced pirate answered. "we didn't find anyone else."

"Excellent." The four-armed alien, who seemed to be the leader, strode toward the cornered Autobots. He gave them a gap-toothed leer. "I'm only going to say this once/ As of now, you are all hostages. You will follow our every order, cooperate with our every request, and put up no resistance. You will be silent unless spoken to. Anyone who fails to comply…will face the consequences." He cocked his gun for emphasis. First Aid flinched. "Behave, and you might all survive this. Maybe. Any questions?"

The Autobots were silent. The leader's leer grew wider. "I love it when everyone's on the same page." He barked a few orders to the guards before leaving to speak with the others pirates. First Aid curled up, hugging his knees. The Autobot symbol on his chest stared up at him. He focused on it. As long as he stayed calm, he'd be all right.

This would _not_ end like Delphi.

He glanced around at the other captives. These were all technical and communications personnel; no soldiers. No weapons. Except for Knockout, of course. He was probably the only one here with any experience in a fight. The scarlet mech was examining his claws with an absurd air of nonchalance. Was he was faking it or if he was just that composed. The pirates didn't appear worried at all; they were splitting off to loot the ship, chatting easily as they left. First Aid went back to contemplating his faction symbol, hoping none of them would pay attention to him.

Another group of pirates entered the bridge. "Ground bridge disabled, boss!" Aid heard one of them declare. "The Autobots won't be getting home that way."

"Not that they'd be much of a threat anyway," a smooth voice added. First Aid froze, his energon running cold. He knew that voice. It tormented him in his nightmares, it echoed in the darkest parts of his mind; it dredged forth memories he'd tried for centuries to repress.

 _No! Please not him—!_ First Aid looked up, dreading what he'd see. A massive fontliner stood among the new arrivals. Unlike the others, his golden armor was polished to a fine sheen. More prominent than his paint, though, were the scars—intricate designs deliberately carved into his mesh, covering him from head to toe. The sight of them sent chills down First Aid's spine. He dove behind Knockout.

"What the—Aid, what's gotten into you?!" Knockout hissed, trying to shove him away. First Aid refused to move, huddling behind the older medic as if trying the disappear. The tussle caught the scarred pirate's attention. Aid cowered as he approached.

"Knockout?" The scarred mech said incredulously. "Is that you?"

"Solarstrike. Long time, no see." Knockout replied cooly. Solarstrike smirked.

"You're an Autobot now? I'd have thought they'd have you locked away."

"Fortunately, they needed a medic." Knockout eyed the carvings in his mesh. "Speaking of medics, you look like you could use one. I've told you to stop carving up your frame; it's not healthy."

Solarstrike chuckled. He twisted his arm, admiring the designs as they glistened in the light. "Perhaps not. But I'm willing to suffer for my art."

Aid let out an involuntary whimper. He ducked back down immediately as the pirate glanced his way.

"What's that thing clinging to your armor?" he asked. "Is it a bot or a space barnacle."

"It's my apprentice, and I think you're scaring him."

"That's my job." Solarstrike's sneer faded as he eyed the quivering nurse. "Hmm…he looks familiar…"

First Aid shook his helm frantically. The pirate wasn't convinced. He snapped his fingers suddenly, brightening up. "I _do_ know you! You're that little nurse from Delphi!"

Aid's engine whined. He shook his head harder, unable to speak anymore. Solarstrike laughed. "You are! I never forget a face that I improved." He frowned. "But you're covering up my artwork…"

The pirate pulled something from his tool belt—a laser scalpel. He twirled it lazily, grinning. "Guess I'll just have to make some more, then."


	13. Hide

At the sight of the laser scalpel, Aid's composure shattered. "NO!" He screamed, diving away. He scrambled to his feet, but before he could make a break for the door, a hand seized him by the throat. He struggled madly as the scarred ex-Decepticon put him in a headlock.

"Hey!" Over the pounding of his spark, First Aid heard Knockout yelling. "You promised that if we cooperated, you wouldn't harm anyone. The Autobots won't be happy if you kill a defenseless medic."

"I won't kill him. I'll just…improve his looks a bit." Solarstrike looked to his leader for permission. "Besides, he was warned not to resist. This looks like resistance to me…wouldn't you say, Captain?"

The captain frowned. First Aid stared back, silently pleading for mercy.

"…Whatever. Just don't do it in here." The captain conceded, to First Aid's horror. Solarstrike grinned. He headed for the door, dragging First Aid along. Aid fought harder, growing more desperate with every step.

"Help me!" He cried to the pirates around him. They only laughed at his terror. He held back a sob. "Please! Don't do this! Someone help me, _please_!"

The next moments were a blur. He heard a revving engine, the squeal of tires, a volley of surprised curses from the prison guards. Solarstrike cried out as he was slammed from behind. He fell, losing his grip on First Aid. The nurse scrambled away from him and promptly tripped over a red sports car that had appeared underfoot. Knockout unfolded from his vehicle mode and dove for the door, seizing First Aid as he passed. Aid's body got the message before his mind did. He stumbled after the medic. Plasma bolts sizzled into the ground where they'd been standing. The surprised curses turned to angry ones as the pirates recovered from their shock.

"Stop th—!" The captain's voice was cut off as Knockout slammed the door's control panel, shutting it. He deployed a buzzsaw and sliced through the circuitry. On the other side of the door, fists pounded against the now-unyielding metal. First Aid stood frozen as Knockout turned to him, optics blazing.

" _Run_." He ordered.

* * *

Knockout knew time was short. The door wouldn't hold forever. "Come on!" He shouted, transforming and taking off. He was halfway down the hall before he realized the nurse wasn't behind him. First Aid was still frozen by the door. He hadn't moved, unless you counted quivering.

 _Not now…!_ Knockout groaned internally. He was alone in a ship full of dangerous criminals; he did not have time to coddle a catatonic nurse! For a moment, he contemplated leaving the mech behind. It would so much simpler to forget First Aid and just worry about himself...

With a sigh, Knockout reversed back to the doors. Transforming, he grabbed Aid's hand and drug him away. First Aid squeaked as he was pulled down the hall. "Look, I get that you're upset, but save the freak-out until we're safe, okay?" The nurse was silent, but he started running on his own. Knockout transformed again and First Aid followed suit, staying uncomfortably close to Knockout's bumper. The medic didn't bother to tell him off; there were more important issues. Like how to escape.

Leaving the ship was out of the question. The area around the _Nemesis_ was barren-no decent hiding places. They could try fleeing to Kalis, but several of the mech pirates clearly had flying alt-modes. They'd catch up easily. No, it was safer to hide in the ship. Unfortunately, there weren't a lot of hiding places on the _Nemesis,_ either. Every inch of it had sensors and cameras, courtesy of Soundwave. Megatron hadn't wanted any blind spots on his ship. The medbay was tempting; it had a lockdown function for quarantine cases. But that would be the first place the pirates would look, and the quarantine doors weren't made to stand up against a dozen angry mechs.

There was only one place Knockout could think of where they'd be safe. He just hoped it was still intact.

The two mechs drove deep into the bowels of the ship, where the largest storage areas were. Knockout braked slowly to make sure the tailgating nurse didn't rear-end him. He came to a stop in front of a blank wall—indistinguishable from the other walls except for a reddish stain. Knockout transformed and examined the wall closely, ignoring First Aid's questioning look. It'd been a while since he'd been down here…He finally spotted the notch between the wall panels. Digging his claws in, he pried the panel out of place. It swung out like a door, revealing a dark void behind it.

"In." He ordered. First Aid transformed to robot mode and hurried through the opening. Knockout closed the panel-door behind him as he followed. Blackness shrouded them for a moment before he turned on his headlights.

The room was exactly as he remembered it. Well, "room" was too generous a term—it was merely a nook, large enough to accommodate one large mech and still leave some space to stretch. Mirrors on the walls amplified the glow from his headlights, filling the space. First Aid did his best "deer in the headlights" impression as he took everything in.

"Where…what is this?" The nurse stammered. At least he could still talk.

"This, for lack of a better term, is a panic room. Breakdown used it whenever he needed some alone time." Knockout rapped one of the walls. "I helped him spruce it up. It's soundproofed, well-hidden, and I'm the only mech who knows about it. We should be safe here."

"Oh. …Good." First Aid hesitantly sat down in the corner. It was lucky they were both on the small side; otherwise, they'd never have fit. Even so, they'd have to squish together. Knockout grumbled about the cramped conditions as he settled in beside First Aid, making as little contact with the other mech as possible. Silence fell over them—except for the faint clicking sound coming from First Aid. He was trembling; Knockout could feel the motion.

"So…I'm guessing Solarstrike is what happened on Delphi?" The medic muttered.

First Aid's visor flashed briefly with panic before he quelled it. "Yeah…"

"That certainly explains some things. I always thought he was unhinged, even for a Decepticon—"

"Can we _please_ talk about something else?" Aid whimpered. His trembling redoubled.

"Fine, fine." Knockout pulled out a file and began to shape his fingertips. The silence fell again.

"…When do you think Magnus and the others will get back?" The nurse asked quietly.

"It's an hour's drive to Kalis. Even assuming they figure out what's going on immediately, it would take them over an hour to all return."

"Oh. Maybe the pirates will be gone by then." Aid murmured hopefully. "Maybe no one will get hurt."

"Or maybe they'll just slaughter all the hostages before they leave. We did tick them off."

First Aid wilted, and Knockout suddenly realized he'd said the wrong thing. "Not that it's _our_ fault if they do that. They're the murderous glitches. In fact, they were probably going to kill us all once they were done looting anyway. At least this way, _we_ survive."

First Aid let out a whine and buried his face in his arms. Knockout sighed. He went back to filing his fingertips, trying to ignore the hitching sobs coming from his companion. This situation was cruel irony—a former 'Con forced to be the sole moral support for a vulnerable Autobot having a breakdown. Knockout didn't do moral support. He wasn't a therapist; slag, he wasn't even a doctor if you got technical about it. Magnus had better get back soon—the sooner he could hand this basket case off to someone else, the better.

If they could survive until then, that is.

* * *

*  
 **The idea of Breakdown's panic room comes from tinyrobotlover's story, "The Hidey-Hole." I highly recommend it to anyone who likes Knockout-Breakdown friendship.**


End file.
